Fall Eight Times, Rise Nine
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Anxiety crops up while Blaine and Kurt watch their daughter Tracy attempt to land an Axel. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**_Written for the Klaine Advent 2019 prompt 'achievement'. Dedicated to HKVoyage, who has been my friend the longest on this hell site, and who always says reading my advent stories are a tradition for her. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate that :D_**

"Okay, Tracy! That was wonderful effort! Much improved!"

"Have I?" the breathless girl asks as she climbs to her feet, smiling through a wince as she bends the knee she hit hard when she caught the toe pick of her skate in the ice and fumbled her landing. "I've been practicing."

"It shows!" Her coach - a middle-aged blonde woman with a thick European accent and bundled deep inside a sleek, black puffer coat - smiles. It's genuine, and that makes Blaine smile. He's seen Coach Tseva interact with some of her other students – skaters who don't put in the time and effort that Tracy does. That warm smile of her and those rosy cheeks can go as hard and cold as the ice beneath Tracy's blades in an instant when she's not pleased.

If she starts yelling in Russian, it's time to pack up your things and leave.

Kurt, however, doesn't seem quite as comforted by Coach Tseva's smile and accolades as Blaine does, gripping the edge of the metal bench beneath him and leaning forward as if he's about to launch onto the ice to sweep his little girl away from the evil task master forcing her into the air again.

When he sees Coach Tseva start to strap a limping Tracy into a jump harness, he nearly does.

"Calm down, kitty," Blaine purrs, slipping an arm through his husband's and hugging to keep him in his seat. "She'll be all right."

"_She'll be all right_," Kurt grumbles, leaning back against his husband but only by a hair. "Did you see that fall? No? Well, _I_ did! I _felt_ it!" Kurt's free hand finds his left knee, subconsciously massaging away a phantom pain caused by years of dance and exacerbated by hours spent sitting on bleachers in the freezing cold. "Whose bright idea was it to take off her knee pads anyway?"

"_Hers," _Blaine says with pride that his daughter made that decision on her own without any pressure from peers who gave up their knee pads over a year ago. "And her coach's. Tracy couldn't do her sit spin with them on."

"But she's not practicing her sit spin! She's working on an _Axel_! Can't she take them off for the sit spin and put them back on for the Axel?"

"Kurt, that's not the way it works and you know that. None of the other kids at her level have knee pads on."

"Yeah, well, that's because their parents are _morons_."

"Tracy has worked hard for this. Training to land an Axel? That's an achievement! Especially since she started skating so much later than everyone else." Blaine's hand covers Kurt's where it rests on his knee and gives it a squeeze. "Have faith in our little girl, hmm?"

Kurt sighs. "I have all the faith in the world in her. It's her _coach_ I'm beginning to question."

"Kurt!" Blaine barks with a laugh so loudly that Tracy, a full football field's length away, giggles and Coach Tseva scowls. "She's a _World Champion_!"

"Yeah?" Kurt watches, teeth clenched and lips pulled tight as Tracy glides forward at enormous speed, leaps into the air with Coach Tseva tugging her up like a puppet on a string … and lands on her butt, his hands balling into fists when the dull thud of her hitting the ice echoes through the air. "Well, she's lifting my baby ten feet and dropping her on her rear."

"Barely a foot," Blaine corrects.

"I don't care if she _is_ a World Champion. She'd better watch her step. She may be better than me on skates, but I'm pretty savvy behind the wheel of an SUV."

Blaine shakes his head. Kurt definitely has a flair for the dramatic. Always has where the people he loves are involved. Still, Blaine had better plan on driving them home after practice. "Do you want to squeeze my hand? Would it make you feel better?"

Kurt side-eyes his husband. Blaine bats his eyes. And despite himself, Kurt smiles, feels himself relax. "Thank you but no. You have a gig tonight. I doubt you can play with broken fingers."


End file.
